


Losing Grip

by FlyAway_33



Series: Everybody Hurts Sometimes [8]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Gen, Hospitalization, Mental Health Issues, Roger Taylor (Queen) Needs a Hug, Self-Medication, lost cat, roger lost his cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/pseuds/FlyAway_33
Summary: Life is shitting on Roger. Then, Brian has a breakdown.
Series: Everybody Hurts Sometimes [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691062
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Losing Grip

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This work is completely fiction. Any recognizable names, personalities, or situations were only used as inspiration and should not be considered fact.
> 
> This is projection if I've ever seen it. This has been one of the worst months of my life so far. My cat's missing, my room mate/best friend was committed, my hot water went out, and teaching is fucking exhausting and frustrating right now. This was the only way I could get my feelings out without sounding selfish. I just bent all that to fit these guys and, well, enjoy the fruits of my suffering. Also, skip this if you're not in a good place right now. 
> 
> This scenario is a selfish point of view, but I’m finding writing it cathartic at the moment, because everyone’s struggles matter even if the people closest to them have it worse.
> 
> In this verse, it is 1969 but with the medical knowledge of 2021. 
> 
> Title from Losing Grip by Avril Lavigne. Fits the fic, too, I guess.

Roger gripped the support pole of the train as he held himself up on shaky legs. Even the brief journey from London Hospital Medical College to his flat on Ferry Road was becoming too much. The week had been too long for him. well, the month really. Dental school was requiring long hours every day and he couldn’t work at the stall enough to eat. Or maybe he had enough money but just didn’t have the energy to get food. Either way, he was exhausted and hungry. His mental health was in the shitter and to top it all off, his cat, Ziggy was missing and a massive snow storm was already rolling in.

Continuing his trek home Roger trudged away from the train stop and toward home. As the first flakes fell from the sky he felt a lurch in his heart for Ziggy. So cold and lonely out here, all he wanted was for her to come home and be safe. But she wasn’t, and he couldn’t do anything about it. A pang in his chest let him know that he wanted to cry, but he just couldn’t. His tears wouldn’t fall, his head wouldn’t spin and pitch him into the much needed release of emotion that he so desperately needed. Each of the emotions he was feeling were not waves, as he thought they should be, but all of them were just ripples. Tiny echos of things he knew should be there, but his brain wouldn’t let him care. He just couldn’t make himself cry. He was too numb.

He’d been in a bad way for a while before Ziggy went missing; seasonal depression and too many responsibilities had hit him hard. He’d been drinking and smoking to cope but now, with everything becoming too much, he wasn’t eating and he was starting to ponder why the fuck he even existed. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to be here either. 

He finally made it home and strode right in the unlocked door. He wanted to see someone, hoped for any one of his several flatmates to be hanging out in the living room with a record on, or maybe for someone to be making tea in the kitchen, but there was no one. They had all been keeping to their rooms lately anyway, all too stressed and grumpy to interact. There was no sign of life in the common areas aside from the muffled buzz of Brian arguing with Chrissy on the phone in his bedroom. Freddie wasn’t home, he discovered as he shuffled into their shared room. Must be working the stall then. 

Roger tossed his bag onto the floor by the dresser and stretched before grabbing his towel from his bedpost and scurrying to the bathroom. No, he wouldn’t touch his bed after a full day in lab until he was clean. He turned the shower on and stripped, trying to give it a moment to warm up. 

Strangely, Roger could still hear Brian arguing from his bedroom across the flat. Brian had been acting a bit off lately. Roger hadn’t been home much but had noticed that Brian was near manic from the stress of school. He’d been obsessive, intense, bossy, and argumentative, but he figured it would pass eventually. It usually did after a day or so… but it had been at least a week this time, Roger passively observed. Ziggy had been at the forefront of his mind, so he knew he’d let Brian’s disconnect from reality slip and go on longer than it should have. He just hadn’t wanted to upset him by saying something.

Roger stuck his hand under the spray, and shuddered, finding it still ice cold. Damn it. Out again. Fuck it. He stepped under the water, the tap-cold temperature stealing his breath and paralyzing him for a moment. His head spun unpleasantly and his stomach dropped from hunger, but he didn’t care enough. All he had to do was get clean then he could get in his bed and sleep this off. Maybe Ziggy would come home while he slept, but after 10 days… the glimmer of hope was dwindling.

He was as quick but thorough and switched the water off. He stepped out and immediately pulled his towel around his shoulders like a child coming out of the bath as his body was wracked with shivers. He dried himself the best he could with the towel, not caring enough to blow dry his hair, and crawled into his coziest sweats before collapsing onto his bed. Finally, in the only place he could even think of being, Roger cocooned himself in his duvet and tried to shut off his mind. But of course it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy.

Lying there in his bed with too many thoughts, Roger felt a ripple of passive guilt. He shouldn’t have told Brian that he was not okay a few days prior, while his friend clearly had his own problems. But that was just it, Roger thought, selfishly. Brian always had more important things on his mind. Roger loved Brian dearly, and wanted nothing but the best for him, so he gave his all trying to support him when he needed it, putting Brian before himself always, just like his mother had raised him. Only twice in their year-and-a-half friendship had Roger ever reversed it and told Brian he was not okay, and a few days prior had been one of those times. But Bri had fired back that he himself was not okay, so naturally Roger went into his default grounding-Brian mode. At least he could use it as a distraction. 

Roger made it into the floaty stage between sleep and wakefulness where his hearing hadn’t tuned out quite yet. There was the heavy thunk of the front door as someone pulled it shut. A greeting was called. Freddie was home. Then, a shout sounded across the flat, but Roger didn’t quite catch the tone. The last thing he registered consciously was a drop of anxiety and a faint echo of the heavy feeling he used to get in his tummy whenever his parents were fighting.

***

Another long day of school after a restless albeit dreamless sleep, and Roger found himself repeating his actions from the day before, and the day before that, and the day before... Train ride, walk home, shower, sleep. Was that all there would be to life? Work, sleep, work, sleep? If so, then why was he here? What was his purpose? Thank God it was Friday, so he could sleep in tomorrow… well, until it was time to go to the stall.

Only, today turned out different after all. Freddie was already there when Roger got home. The older boy was sitting stalk straight on the couch, wringing his hands, his dark eyes shining with anxiety. “Fred?” Roger hummed, padding into the living room. Alarm bells went off somewhere in his head, but were muffled by the cloak of his omnipresent existential dread. 

“Darling, something’s going on with Brian.”

Roger wanted to scoff at Freddie, for he had come to this realization days ago. “He’s just stressed, Fred. He’ll be fine in a few days. He always is.”

Freddie shook his head, genuine fear in his eyes. “This is different… this is serious Rog, not just melodrama this time.” Roger tilted his head signaling for Fred to continue, his brow furrowing and his heart dropping. “While you were in school today we talked a bit and I knew what he was trying to say but he wasn’t being logical. He worked himself into hysterics and I couldn’t calm him down. It was terrifying, Rog. For the first time ever I wasn’t able to bring him back to Earth. I— er, I called Chrissy, she couldn’t help either so we took him to hospital. He’s there now, being evaluated. He can’t have visitors yet.”

Roger stared in shock. It had gotten that bad? He was committed? “Well shit, Fred.” Roger leaned his head into his hand and rubbed at his face anxiously.

Freddie nodded, his face grim. “They said they’ll let him call us tomorrow if he gets stabilized enough.” Freddie’s face twisted then, and he looked ready to cry. Roger immediately opened his arms for Freddie to fall into. The older boy began to dissolve into sobs as recounted the day. “He told me yesterday he hadn’t taken his ADHD meds in a week as he hadn’t gotten around to refilling them— hicc— he, he said he felt crazy and he needed to calm down, he needed some kind of medication. He took your Zoloft, Rog, without asking cause he though it would be a temporary fix.”

“Holy shit.”

“Then— hicc— he ordered a refill of his meds and took that when he got it this morning.”

“Holy shit!” Roger cried, his brain sifting wildly through his knowledge of pharmacology. “Freddie, he took a stimulant with a serotonin reuptake inhibiter that he didn’t need. He’s literally high on brain chemicals right now.” 

Freddie shrunk away from Roger’s stressed tone, grimacing at the intensity. “Well the hospital knows, so they’ll draw that conclusion themselves, Dr. Roger” he hissed, showing his own agitation. 

“Sorry, Fred, I just— how could he be so bloody stupid?”

“He isn’t a know-it-all like you, darling.” the sarcasm absolutely dripped from Freddie’s words.

Roger buried his face in his hands, hiding away. He just needed to process for a moment, without any outside influence. “I’m really worried, Fred.” he mumbled. He really was, his stomach was in knots. He had failed Brian. 

“It’s serious,” Freddie petted Roger’s hair affectionately before rising to his feet “but there isn’t anything we can do tonight. We’re sure to get an update in the morning. I’m going to get some rest, you should too.”

Roger watched Freddie sweep across the flat and into their room, shock holding the blond captive on the couch. He couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness, and his heart physically hurt thinking of Brian all alone and confused in an unfamiliar place. He wanted nothing more than to hug his friend, tell him he’d be okay and spend a good Friday night in with he and Fred to wash away all the bad feelings for a little bit. That would reset Brian, wouldn’t it? 

No, not this time. This time, Roger found himself hoping and praying to anyone who was listening that his friend would get the help he needed.

But he wished somebody would help him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This work is completely fiction. Any recognizable names, personalities, or situations were only used as inspiration and should not be considered as fact.


End file.
